


Whatever You Want

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sam is seventeen, Spanking, Weecest, bit of praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has something he wants to try--he thinks Dean spanking him would be really, really hot. Dean's not a hundred percent sure, but, as usual, Sam's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone--
> 
> Here's yet another fic being migrated over from Tumblr. It's my first--and one of my few--attempts at spanking, which was the prompt.  
> Warnings for: weecest (Sam is seventeen), no penetrative sex, mild discussion of kink, and, of course, spanking.

  Dean blinks and looks at Sam. “You want me to what?” He remembers the days when they first started this, when Sam was shy and Dean had to coax what Sam wanted out of him. That’s long gone, replaced by the gangly almost-eighteen year old staring at him now, who just asked for something Dean is absolutely sure he didn’t just ask for.

            “Spank me,” Sam repeats, voice calm despite the color staining his cheeks. “I don’t think you actually need me to explain.”

            “But—why?” Dean asks. “I mean, we get knocked around all the time. Don’t you get hurt enough?”

            Sam shrugs. “Dean, you’re not actually going to hurt me.”

            Dean raises an eyebrow. “You want me to smack your ass, but don’t think it’s going to  _hurt_  you?”

            Sam chuckles. “I’ve been thrown through walls, choked by angry ghosts, I’ve had a werewolf tackle me. You think your hand is gonna hurt after that? Besides, Dean, you’re not supposed to hit hard enough to really hurt me. Just enough so I can feel it, really feel it.”

            Dean is still confused, but it’s clear Sam has thought this out. “So, what? You want me to put you over my knee, tell you you’re a bad boy? This isn’t—oh, god, tell me this isn’t some sort of daddy thing.”

            Sam flushes furiously. “No! And I don’t want you to tell me I’m a bad boy or shit like that either. I’m not a five year old getting a swat on the ass. I just—I think it’ll feel good, Dean, but if you don’t want to—“

            He turns to walk away, but Dean grabs his arm to stop him. “Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry, I’ll do it, Sammy, you know I’ll do anything you ask for. Just trying to understand.”

            Sam is still blushing. “I’m not some bad kid,” he mumbles.

            Dean smiles, because this he knows how to handle. “No, you’re not,” he agrees. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Gonna lay across my lap and take what I give you?”

            Sam nods, and Dean pulls him closer. “And you’re gonna tell me to stop, the second it’s too much, right? ‘Cause this is for you, Sammy, and it’s only good so long as you’re enjoying it.”

            Sam nods again so Dean pulls away and goes to the couch. He pats his lap. “Come on, then,” he says gently, and Sam wastes no time, walking over and tugging his clothes as he goes, crawling over Dean’s lap once he’s completely naked.

            Dean waits for Sam to settle, notices how Sam positions himself, giving himself room to rub off against Dean’s thigh. “Think you can get off from this?” he asks quietly.

            Sam’s shoulders shrug. “I don’t know, Dean. Never done this before.”

            Dean accepts that and takes one hand, rubbing Sam’s ass gently. He knows the mechanics of this, has had more than one girl proclaim herself “naughty” and ask for punishment, but this is Sam, and it’s different. “Ready?” he asks.

            Sam nods, but Dean doesn’t start yet. “Remember—tell me if it’s too much,” Dean reminds him firmly, and Sam nods again, so Dean thinks they’re ready. He lifts his hand and brings it down, not hard, but still enough that he can see the brief red-mark where his hand landed.

            Sam rocks his hips but makes no sound. “Good?” Dean asks.

            “Harder,” Sam orders. “And don’t keep asking if I’m good. I promised, I’d tell you if I need to stop. I will.” Dean nods and does as bid, brings his hand down on Sam’s ass, three times in quick succession, takes a moment to rub the red mark on his left ass cheek, making Sam squirm and whimper softly, before switching to the other side.

            “So good for me, Sammy,” Dean says softly between hits. “So fucking perfect, god, you should see your ass. Maybe I should take a picture, show you how it looks.” He starts alternating now, an irregular pattern falling to keep Sam guessing. He lightens his strikes, but he imagines they still must sting against Sam’s red ass. Every few hits, he stops to rub at Sam’s ass. Once, he rakes his nails across the hot, undoubtedly sore, red skin, making Sam shiver and whine.

            “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean says. “I can feel you, against my leg. So fucking hard from this, fuck, I think you’re gonna come, amazing, so good for me, baby. Fuck, wanna feel you, coming from humping my leg, my hand making your ass all red and hot. Gonna be so fucking beautiful, Sammy,” he says, and lands a slightly harder hit as he finishes speaking. Sam’s whole body tenses and he comes, come soaking into Dean’s jeans, but Dean can’t bring himself to care about that because here is Sam, red ass on his lap and making those blissed out little moans he makes immediately after he comes.

            Dean comes back to his senses and hauls Sam up so they’re cuddled together on the couch, mindful of Sam’s undoubtedly sore ass. He looks at Sam’s face and wipes away the few tears in the corner of Sam’s eyes. He searches his face for any signs of real pain but, not surprisingly, he finds none. “So fucking amazing, Sammy,” he praises, “God, you looked so damn beautiful, you know that?”

            Sam hums a bit. “Good?”

            Dean laughs quietly. “Fuck, yes, Sammy, it was good. You liked it?”

            Sam looks pointedly to the come staining Dean’s jeans. “What can I do for you?” he asks, caressing Dean’s jean-clad cock lightly.

            Dean moans but pushes Sam’s hand away. “I’m okay, Sammy,” he murmurs. “Right now, just wanna hold you.” He brings his hand up and strokes Sam’s hair

            Sam sinks even deeper into Dean’s arms, squirming slightly to keep pressure off of his ass. “M’kay,” he says tiredly, so they just sit there, Dean stroking Sam’s hair and Sam burrowing into Dean’s side.


End file.
